


The Museless Muse

by Seralina



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Big Brother References, Colin Baker - Freeform, Dancing With The Stars References, Destiel - Freeform, Doctor Who References, Greek Mythology - Freeform, Hulk Hogan - Freeform, John Barrowman - Freeform, Love Island References, M/M, NYCC, Project Runway References, Season 9 AU, Star Trek References, The Amazing Race References, The Walking Dead References, Wheel of Fortune References, William Shatner - Freeform, deanxCas - Freeform, sigourney weaver - Freeform, spiderman - Freeform, stan lee - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-26
Updated: 2019-06-13
Packaged: 2019-11-05 20:33:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17925878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Seralina/pseuds/Seralina
Summary: This is my piece for the FicFacer Auction 2018! (See inside for Prompt) Set after 9x01, TFW meet up with Charlie to attend NYCC 2013. Yes, the angels just fell, and yes Sam has an angel on lockdown in his noggin, and YES, Cas may be human... but they're all gonna ignore that for just ONE weekend...Until they're thrown into the realm of TV Competition shows. (Destiel)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello Everyone! I'm so excited for this piece, because I took a dang long time to storyboard and work this whole thing out (for once, I actually know where a story is going... mostly. lol) The prompt I got was...  
> "Please do a Destiel XO with Project Runway. At some point they do the challenge where the designers do each other's family members, and Castiel complains about how fucking huge Sam is."  
> But I'll be getting to that bit later on... for now, enjoy the first Chapter, and I'll be sure to update the tags with all the other references I'll be making as I go along. Please enjoy, and thank you SO SO SO MUCH to my bidder who basically made this whole story possible. You were the Muse of this creation.  
> Now Enjoy!

Rolling dark clouds pass by outside the window.  Flickers of lightning, lighting them up like fireworks.  

 

_ Fury of lighting could not contend _

 

There’s a single bent lamp lighting up the desk workspace.  Illuminating the silhouette of a brunette woman in a neat green felt dress.

 

_ With the man to which he did intend _

 

She’s writing with a flowing ink pen, black smudges outline the edges.  She scratches at her head, displacing the straight chestnut locks.

 

_ Hoping for someday to make amends _

_ To get back what once he did lend _

 

She scratches out the next few words then makes a groan of frustration.  Staring out the window she brings the end of the pen to her lips, chewing in contemplation.  When suddenly inspiration strikes. She places the pen to the paper hurriedly. 

 

_ Even though for it he did not consent _

_ But the man who’s fury did not relent _

_ Would wait until proper intent _

_ Things were often said that were not meant _

_ This is the peril when you act above _

_ The push and pull of your true love... _

 

She stalls again.  This time the minutes pass with the beating of thunder outside her window.  The pen returns to her lips as she reads over the words again and again. They’re  _ right _ , they’re  _ good _ , but there is still something  _ missing _ .  There’s still that itch that hasn’t been scratched.  The pen leaves her lips and she drops it to the desk in utter frustration.  Groaning, her head falls into her hands, attempting to massage away the quickly forming headache.   _ Why were these two so difficult?  Couldn’t they just play by the rules? _

A large pair of hands clamp down on her shoulders causing her to startle.  Pulling away slightly she looks back into the face of her husband. Sighing in relief, she leans back into his chest, his hands smoothing over her arms.

“You’re overthinking it mi amor.”  He tells her, leaning in to kiss the top of her head.

“I can’t help it, Coy, I’ve got to get this out of me before it explodes.”  Coy chuckles at his wife and pulls her chin up to face him. 

“Perhaps we should return to your inspiration station, Era.”  Coy lightly strokes her neck, his muscles flexing and drawing her eyes to the colorful, structured tattoos adorning his biceps trailing down to his forearms; mainly black line work in a block structure, twisting and turning with white and blue highlights.  She catches sight of his wonderful dark features in the lamplight. Dark eyes, dark hair, warm skin, sharp bone structure. Achingly beautiful. Era lets her hand trail up his beautiful arms, content for a moment to just be with the person she loves. Coy leans down and lets their lips meet in a comforting embrace that turns up a notch steadily.  Era hums into the kiss and Coy pulls away.

“If only our love was enough to inspire me for the rest of time.”  Era wishes out loud.

“As long as you’re mine forever I don’t mind finding new ways to entertain you, mi amor.”  Coy pats her shoulders once. “Come on. Let’s go tune in and see if there’s been any progress.”  Era nods at this and stands up, letting her husband take her hand and lead her over to the couch. Coy sits, drawing his lover into his embrace.  Era snuggles in and watches as Coy picks up the remote, then lets his gaze drift over to her warm brown eyes and smiles. 

The large flat screen TV flips on displaying a bunch of people surrounding a campfire, some in various states of snuggling.  Sunset in the distance of a sandy beautiful beach. The people look around, a bit wary of one another.

“Boring.”  Era says flippantly, and Coy switches the channel.  Next the screen is showing a spinning green wheel and a bunch of letters on the board.  A contestant raises a shaking hand to take something off the wheel and nervously picks at the side of the wedge.  Their eyes raise to the person next to them who gives them a nervous smile in return. “Boringer.” Era declares and Coy presses the button.  This continues for some time, flashing through various game shows and contests. Singers, dancers, people winning money, winning a race, trying to win votes.  None of it stirs anything in Era. Her husband appears troubled, running his fingers up and down her arm in thought. Then it strikes him, clicking the remote.

A sliding shot of New York City floats across their screen.  Then three men walking side by side down the sidewalk. One’s tall with shining hair, another has a determined look on his face, and the last is in a long coat, looks utterly perplexed.

“What’s this?” Era questions, casting a side-eye at her husband.

“Something new,”  Coy responds. Era nods and turns her gaze back.

_ “Be careful!  You can’t trust these city people.  No man, he doesn’t want it.” _ That was the grumpy one, blocking a street salesman from the still perplexed man.  His arm goes around the shoulders of the tan coat man and pulls him gently away. 

_ “He was offering me a reasonable deal on his latest album.  I thought you might enjoy-” _

_ “Not that kinda music man.  My artists won’t be out on the streets selling their stuff.”   _ The dark haired one looks disappointed, but the lighter haired man smiles putting his freckles on display.   _ “But I appreciate the sentiment.” _  This makes the darker haired man smile.  They stare into each others eyes, piercing blue and warm green.  The whole moment seems to last seconds longer than necessary. Era takes in a gasp at the intensity.  Then the lighter haired one pats his friend on the back as he pulls away from the embrace. The tall one from before comes over suddenly, breaking the last lingering look as he points over their heads at their destination.  They’re off walking down the street again.

“Who  _ are _ they?”  Era asks, unable to peel her eyes from the screen.

“Do you like them?  I just found them last week, you can practically taste it in the air around them.”  Coy turns a wolfish grin on his wife, and she nods eyes wide, unable to look away from the men on the screen.

“I think they’re my favorite yet.” Era licks her lips, brain already spinning with ideas and ways they might come together.

“Then it’s done.  They’re yours.” Coy says, gently playing with a strand of his wife’s hair.

“Oh, I love you, Coyōtl.”  She says, turning to him and crawling into his lap.

“Anything for you my precious Erata.”  He says against her lips before sealing the deal.

* * *

“I still do not understand the point of this trip,”  Cas says, frown lines crinkling up his forehead as he dodges another hoard of people with their cellphones pointing up to take pictures.

“We promised Charlie.  Told her that if we didn’t have a case it would be a shame to waste the passes.”  Sam explains as he takes a large step over a particularly nasty puddle, then spots the building in the distance.  A large glass pyramid connecting to a large glass dome reflecting the overcast day above them.

“Come on, Sam.  You’re just as excited about this as I am!  I mean  _ the _ Stan Lee! William freaking Shatner! Sigourney Weaver! Hulk Hogan!  I’m a kid in a nerdy candy store!” Dean gestures excitedly as they stop to wait at a crosswalk.  A throng of people surrounds them with colorful lanyards and decorative badges to match Team Free Will.  Cas thumbs at his, giving it another curious look, then startles as Dean elbows him to signify they can cross.

“I’m more excited about the cast of the Walking Dead, Colin Baker, John Barrowman-”

“Dude!  Colin Baker was like the  _ worst _ Doctor.”  Sam gives Dean a mid-grade level bitch face which Dean just laughs at.  “But John Barrowman is pretty cool. I can relate to him.” Dean shrugs, trying to be casual.  Sam looks over at Dean, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh really? You never mentioned that.  What part is relatable… the part where he’s basically a renegade space cowboy or the part where he’s into getting with any-”

“Obviously the first part!”  Dean interrupts, but Sam watches with a smirk as Dean’s cheeks turn a shade of red that makes him all too obvious. 

“Was John Barrowman the attractive American in the first season of Doctor Who?” Cas interjects, making Dean blush brighter and Sam cough to hide a laugh.

“Yep, that’s the one!”  Sam answers.

“I suppose it would be interesting to meet him.” Cas muses, looking back towards their destination.  Dean is spluttering in between them, stuck between upset, confused, and embarrassed. Suddenly he stumbles on an uneven curb causing him to bump into Cas who steadies him with a hand across his middle.  Before Dean can tell Cas to back off, Cas is stepping away pointing vaguely across the street. “Why are there so many people dressed in this red and blue spandex suit? Is it of significance to this function?”  Dean follows the gesture and sees the iconic outfit mentioned and laughs.

“Dude, those are people dressed as Spiderman!  A famous comic book character written by Stan Lee.”  

“Am I supposed to know who that is?” Cas asks with a tilt of his head squinting his eyes at Dean.

“Man, you’re an alien.  But it’s sorta refreshing.”  Dean smiles and claps Cas on the shoulder.

“Spiderman is a teenager who was bitten by a radioactive spider and gained… spider-esque  .” Sam explains as they step into one of the very long lines outside the grand building. There are more people in costume around them now, various superheroes and fantasy creatures… a lot of zombies.

“That seems highly unlikely,”  Cas responds, turning away from the brothers to observe the crowd again.  Sam laughs and Dean pulls out his phone, swiping a few times and putting it up to his ear.  After a few moments, he speaks.

“Hey!  We’re here! Where should we meet you?”

* * *

The hall is crowded but Jean got here early, so she could set up and get settled in peace.  The people on either side of her aren’t there yet, so she sets down the box on the table and slings down her backpack onto one of the folding chairs.  She breathes in the scent of convention, her third one this year. It finally feels like things for her fanworks are about to take off. 

Ten minutes later and her banner is hung on the divider, her business cards fanned out over the table and her prints spread on either side.  With a sigh she moves the backpack and settles into the chair; slipping a hand into the back pouch she pulls out her tablet and starts to draw.  

An hour passes, some familiar faces stop by to talk to her.  She makes small chat, some artists commend her artist name for being clever.  She checks her watch; it’s less than half an hour until the doors open. The people on either side of her are fully set up now and the whole of Artist Alley is abuzz with excitement for the first day of con.  Jean lets a smile curve her lips, feeling that familiar excitement course through her as she looks around. 

That’s when she sees the attractive woman a few booths away, swaggering her way past tables wearing a black suit jacket, white v neck, and dark ripped jeans.  She has black and grey tattoos running down her neck and chest, covering her pale skin. They form a necklace like shape with large triangles spread evenly off of it.  There are highlights of gold glinting in the lights, it’s beautifully detailed artwork. She runs her fingers through short dark hair, buzzed close at the sides. Jean’s mouth waters as the stranger approaches her table slipping her hands in her pockets.

“Jean Draws Dreams?”  The attractive woman asks, pulling a toothpick out from between her teeth and meeting Jean’s eyes with grey-blue steel that pierces her heart.

“Um, yeah.  That’s me!” Jean laughs awkwardly as she jumps up and tries to casually lean on the table.  “See something you fancy?” The woman glances down at her work, twisting the toothpick between her thumb and forefinger.  She gives Jean a deadly sexy smirk that makes her cheeks heat up.

“Yeah, actually.  You must be Jean.”  Jean smiles, melting at the Aussie accent.  Ugh, what about her  _ isn’t _ sexy?  

“Yep, that’s me.  Jean the drawing Genie.”   _ God that was idiotic _ .  She thinks to herself.  The mystery woman huffs a small laugh, then gestures to her booth.

“I’m gonna need to take your booth.”  The woman says, lips stretching to form the long Aussie sound at the end of booth.  There was an audible record scratch in Jean’s brain.

“Say  _ what _ ?!”

“I’m commandeering it for a higher purpose.  It would be best for you if you just left.” She steps around the table, coming into Jean’s space.  Jean takes a step back, calf knocking over the little folding chair, her heart hammering in her chest.  Her voice comes out squeaky and confused.

“You can’t just  _ take _ it!  I paid for this.  I worked hard for this a-all y- ye- y-” Jean stutters as the woman narrows her steely eyes at her, and turns her head to the side.

“Too bad.”  The woman raises her hand pointing at the banner behind Jean’s head.  Jean turns and watches in disbelief as her name and logo melt away, the colors waving like a mirage.  Once the image stills it reads  **Coy Love Pursuits** .  “Boss needs it.”  Jean turns back to the mysterious woman as terror starts to shake her thighs.

“What  _ are _ you?”  Jean’s voice comes out terrified and small.

“You would never understand, mate.”  She raises a hand towards Jean’s head.  Jean has a fleeting thought that if she has to die, at least it’s at the hands of someone so beautiful. The woman’s pointer finger lightly taps her temple. Then everything goes black.

* * *

A flash of red hair comes flying at them from across the room, somehow finding the one path clear of people… or perhaps creating one with the excited scream she’s making.  Then she’s barreling into Dean and he’s hugging her back, smiling.

“Hey, Charlie. Miss us?” The redhead pulls back and then punches Dean in the arm.  “Ow!”

“Course I did you workaholic idiots!”  Charlie quips then rolls her eyes as Dean holds his arm protectively.

“Hey, we don’t pick the apocalypse schedule.  It kinda picks us.” Sam shrugs, holding his arms out in offering.  Charlie turns to him and throws herself into his arms. 

“Yeah, I guess I’ll just have to have a word with the Fates about that one,”  Charlie responds as she pulls back.

“I wouldn’t advise that.  The Fates tend to be very… non negotiating.”  Cas adds, not realizing the sarcastic tone of the conversation.  Charlie turns to him, the smile on her face not even faltering.

“And you must be Castiel!  The real-life angel! I can’t believe this is the first time I’m meeting you.  You’re awesome. Dean has told me so many stories,” Cas smiles at this as Charlie tosses Dean a knowing look.  “But he didn’t say you were so  _ handsome _ .”  Dean’s blush makes a dazzling return at this comment.  To Dean’s spite and Sam’s delight, Cas notices this and shoots Dean a confused look.  Sam rolls his eyes. They’re impossible.

“I’m not sure what the relative attractiveness of my vessel has to do with stories about me, but I am pleased to meet you as well Charlie.”  Cas extends an awkward hand and Charlie ignores it.

“Nope, sorry.  You get one too.”  That’s all the warning Cas gets before the red-headed firecracker has her arms wrapped around him.  Cas looks confused, a seemingly perpetual look on his face at this point, before a tiny smile curls his lips upward and he manages to loosely wrap his arms around her. “Alright!” Charlie says, breaking away from Cas and clapping her hands together.  “It’s your first NYCC! You need buttons!”

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ALRIGHT HOW DID YOU LIKE IT SO FAR? It's gonna be about 10 chapters (rough guess, honestly.) and I have no clue how many words. My word count tends to fluctuate chapter to chapter (I mean... have you guys read GAPS? from 5k to 12k whiplash like WHAAA?) but it's all gonna be really fun, with some tension and case style mystery thrown in there. Please Comment, Leave Kudos, Subscribe, and Follow this story! Ya know, whatever you need to do to let me know you enjoyed this! Thanks again, all of you, see you on the flipside.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all love the various pop culture references in this chapter. I love comic con. Also, I hope at least one of you out there will appreciate the guest appearance. (:

_ Shall I show thee what awaits _

_ On the eve of destiny’s date? _

_ Know your Worry’s foolish bait _

_ Only help to shirk your fate. _

 

Coy leaned against the metal support beam in between their booth and the next one.  The hall they were in had a tall ceiling and was filled with the chatter of a few hundred people.  Era sat to his left on the singular folding chair the booth contained. Her beautiful wide brown eyes stared distractedly into the space in front of her, tapping her pen against her cheek.  In her other hand she held her poetry journal. It was a gift, beautifully handcrafted italian leather intricately decorated with gold, muted greens, reds, and browns. In the center of the cover was an impression of the Fleur de Lis.  

“Are the hoards of nerds boring you?”  Coy asks, Era glances over at him.

“The assortment of colorful costumes are… distracting.”  Era admits as she returns her gaze to the walkway of con attendees.  “It’s not a bad thing. It’s slightly enjoyable.” Coy’s eyes follow her trail, floating around the room and getting caught on a trio of zombies admiring some photorealism paintings.  The paintings depict a sheriff with hat and standard issue gun having a standoff with a beautiful yet fierce woman wielding a katana. 

“Some of these people are very talented in the art of disguise.”

“The creative process must be amazing.  But none can compare to you in the category of disguise, my love.”  Era shoots him a sultry look that raises the temperature of their small space.  Coy’s fingers itch to grab her and take her away from prying eyes. 

Suddenly Era spots them out of the corner of her eye, excitement prickling her skin. 

It’s just the two of them going slowly from booth to booth.  The one with short sandy hair keeps smiling at the dark haired one even though he isn’t looking back.  The dark haired one with piercing blue eyes studies the various drawings carefully, often stopping to ask questions of perplexed looking artists.  Era watches as the less stoic of the two excitedly grabs for a drawing a couple booths down from her. He talks animatedly, gesturing and explaining to his companion what it is.  The dark haired man’s eyes never leave his companions freckled face. A small wistful smile is on his face, his eyes are practically glowing.

“I did some digging.” Coy whispers into her ear so she doesn’t have to turn her head.  

“Hmmm?”

“They’re marked.”  Coy tells her, each syllable pointed.  A wicked smile curls onto Era’s face.

“ _ Perfect _ .”  She says and taps her pen to her chin.  “Make them do something.” Era demands with a slight pout as she glances briefly at her husband who has a mischievous look in his eyes.

“With pleasure, mi amor.”  Coy flicks a finger in their direction.  Someone with large wings turns suddenly knocking the green eyed man into the blue eyed one.  His arms grip into the tan trench coat squeezing his biceps through the material, while his compatriots hands grip his hips to steady him.  They stumble for a moment, eyes locked on eachother. Once their footing stabilizes they freeze, stuck in the moment.

Era claps a little, sucking in a gasp at the chemistry crackling in the air around them.   _ Ooh, that was a good line _ . She notices that normally, the green eyed one is taller but like this they’re eye level and Era watches with utter glee as his eyes drop from blue down to full pink lips.  The hands on hips smooth the fabric under the pads slightly, fingers dancing lightly. But panic clouds into those green eyes and he straightens, the blue eyes look on, sad but resigned, and they too pull away a moment later.  A slight blush chases away the fear as the green eyed man rubs at his neck, as if debating whether or not to say anything at all. But he moves onto the next booth, distracting from the moment instead. The dark haired one follows, back into a marked stoicism.  

A few minutes later they are at Era’s booth.  The taller of them barely pasues, but of course her stoic favorite stops to grab a business card.

“Your title sounds rather…erotic, but your imagery is not.”  He speaks in deep gravely tones, surprising Era with how pleasant and unexpected a sound it is.  His eyes raise up to hers and Era smirks just slightly.

“Coy is part of my husband’s name.  So it’s actually less erotic than you would think.”  The man nods and turns to her husband. 

“Your name is Coy?”

“Yes.  Short for Coyōtl.” By this point the other man has noticed the absence and returns to their table.

“And I’m Era.  You are…? 

“Cas!  What are you doing now?  Hounding these people?” The other man says jovially, clapping a hand on his shoulder.  Cas gives his companion an exasperated look.

“Dean this is Coyōtl and Era.”  Dean gives them each a brief smile and nod combo.

“Co-YO-tull and Era?”  Dean questions and Cas chuckles.

“COY-yu-tle, Dean.”  Cas corrects.

“But you can just call me Coy.”

“Oh,  _ Coy _ .  Cool.  I’m Dean and this is Cas.”  Dean gives a little wave, Cas just rolls his eyes.  

“Nice to meet you both.  You seem like a lovely couple.”  Coy says while gesturing to the two of them with a smile.  Dean splutters and Cas casts a wary glance over at him. Era smiles at her husband and adds on.

“There’s so much love between you two.”  Dean is turning red again and Cas let’s out a breathy laugh in disbelief.

“Thank you, but we’re not-” Cas tries to respond.

“We’re not together.”  Dean fills in but Cas looks confused.

“But Dean, we’re standing together right now.”  Dean gives Cas an exhausted look.

“They mean in a sexual relationship.”  Dean says in hushed tones, Cas’ eyes go wide in understanding, then he turns back to Era and Coy.

“No, Dean and I are not currently engaged in a sexual relationship.”  Dean, who started out nodding in agreement with his friend, then has to splutter at the end.  “Dean, are you getting a cold? You keep coughing.”

“Not currently?”  Era asks, a hint of a laugh on her lips.  

“No, never happened.”  Dean fills in finally as he face slowly turns from pink to crimson.  

“Yet?”  Coy adds with a mirthful expression.  Dean flounders and Coy laughs. “We’re just messing with you.”  Dean settles into the most strange cross between pouting and looking grumpy, while on the other side a look of understanding passes through Cas’ eyes.  He doesn’t laugh but you get the impression he finally understands a joke that was particularly difficult for him to grasp. Then he looks at Dean and actually appears to be holding back a chuckle.  He does look quite like a petulant child at this moment. 

“Is there any of my art that interests you?”  Era asks politely. Standing up for the first time and gesturing to the boxes of artwork or large print poems adorning the table.  

“I’ll look, thank you.”  Cas nods respectfully, sliding over to the poetry box.  Dean scoots with him, arms crossed and grumbling to the side of Cas furthest from the couple.  Cas throws a withered look in Dean’s direction. It’s clear in his body language that he wants to leave, desperately wants to escape the lingering conversations awkwardness.  Cas sighs, understanding and willingness to comply, for Dean. 

Husband and wife exchange a look, almost reading each other's thoughts.  When they look back to the pair, Cas is agreeing to something Dean just said and they start off.  Then Cas turns back, reaching for the card he forgot to put in his pocket. Era steps forward and offers her hand.

“Thanks for stopping and it was nice to meet you Cas.”  Era tells him sincerely, Cas accepts her hand, the warm squeeze and slight pressure making him smile.  He nods in conclusion and walks off to catch up to Dean who is quickly disappearing through the crowd of colorful individuals.  When they’re both gone from view Era turns back to her husband.

“So much  _ tension _ .”

“And a lot of denial.”  Coy surmises.

“Perhaps he’s harbouring a bit of internalized hatred.”  Era sits down as her pen returns to the thinking rhythm she likes to tap out on her chin.  “It’ll be very cleansing for him to work through that.”

“Cathartic.  Freeing even.”  Coy aggrees. “So what are we gonna do?”  Era opens her mouth to respond, a playful twinkle in her eye.

“Play a game of chess?”  She suggests in a dulcet voice, that is anything but innocent despite appearances.

“You will be doing  _ nothing _ about the righteous man and former angel Castiel.”  Says a female voice from behind Coy. The couple turn and stare at the newcomer in annoyed confusion. 

 

* * *

 

“My goodness you’re tall!” The curly haired man says in a thick English accent.

“Wh-, haha… tha-”  Sam stutters, flustered.

“You’re almost as big as a moose!”  

Charlie is positively cracking up on the other side of the man.  

“Would he even fit in the TARDIS?”  Charlie asks conspiratorial. 

“Not without bumping his noggin on the way in!”  Then they’re both laughing, much to Sam’s dismay.  Sam can’t help but smile a little bit. Now he can say even the Doctor has made fun of his height.

“Alright everyone, get together now!”  The photographer calls out, so Collin throws an arm around the both of them.  Charlie displays a blinding smile to rival the flash.

A few minutes later they’re standing just outside photo ops long black curtain, each holding a glossy copy of their photo with the sixth Doctor.

“He was so much nicer than his character was.”  Sam smiles, eyes not leaving the picture.

“Yeah, that’s what I’d heard.  I’m glad we did it!” Charlie then takes both their photos, slipping them into a protective covering, and then tucks the whole thing in her backpack.  “Should we get him to sign them later?” She asks Sam as she’s still fiddling with her pack.

“Artist Alley was weird.”  Dean announces, walking up to them with Cas right next to him.

“Actually, Dean.  I thought it was rather interesting.  Most of them were rather nice, especially that last couple who-”

“Alright Cas.  They don’t wanna hear about that.”  Dean cuts him off. Cas looks a bit hurt but mostly frustrated.  Cas and Dean continue to have a stare down. Charlie catches Sam rolling his eyes.

“Anyway.”  Sam says and the other two snap apart from the other’s gaze.

_ Damn, that’s some thick… tension.  _ Charlie thinks.

“Dean, why don’t we go to that Hulk Hogan panel?  Charlie snagged some exclusive passes.” Sam suggests.

“Hell yeah!”  Dean proclaims, then catches Cas’ eye.  “But what about Cas?”

“Cas and I will be doing our own thing.”  Charlie tells Dean, walking over to hook her arm with the ex-angel’s.  Dean looks torn for a second glancing between the two of them, when over Charlie’s shoulder something catches his eye.  Dean’s whole disposition goes rigid and stormy.

“Son of a bitch.” Then he shoves past Charlie and strides towards an autograph table.

“What was-?”

“Oh crap.”  Sam says, frown settling on his face at seeing what Dean had and starting to move after him

“Wait no, Sam it’s not him.”  Cas says putong an arm in front of his friend then dashing after Dean.  He catches him by the arm right before he unhooks the line divider. Charlie and Sam watch as they have a heated conversation.  Dean tries to walk away but Cas places a firm grip on his shoulder.

“What’s going on?”  Charlie asks, seeing the interaction grow quieter, Dean’s not yelling anymore and they’ve stepped closer together.

“That guy over there-”  Sam starts, Charlie glimpses a sign by the line entrance.

“Curtis Armstrong?”

“Uhh, yeah I guess.”  Sam nods. “There’s this angel, the scribe of God actually, named Metatron, and-”

“What did he do to Dean?”  She asks.

“Well, he looks just like that.  Must’ve stolen that guy’s face.” Charlie gives Curtis a cursory once over at this.  “He… well he double crossed us. He hurt Cas, took his grace to use in a spell that caused all the angels to fall.”  Charlie gasps. 

“That mass asteroid show?”

“Yep.”  Charlie hums in thought.

“So Dean is upset because Cas got hurt?”  Charlie gives Sam a knowing look. Sam just rolls his eyes yet again and gives her an exasperated sigh for show.

_ Interesting. _ Charlie thinks.  

Dean and Cas walk back over, both looking a bit frazzled.

“You okay feathers?”  Charlie asks. Cas tilts his head and squints his eyes. 

“I no longer have wings, nor do I posses feathers.”  He looks a bit sad admitting that.

“Oh sorry, just a nickname I’m trying out.  Guess I’ll find a new one.” Charlie says.

“I like when Dean calls me Cas.”  Castiel tells Charlie rather reverently.  Dean flushed a pink shade, his eyes were glued to Cas, fly elsewhere.

“How ‘bout Hulk Hogan?”  Dean asks. Sam checks his watch.

“Crap it’s starting in 5 minutes, we gotta-”

“Go ahead.  We’ll be fine!  Text me when you’re done, we need to grab seats for the TWD panel.”  Charlie reassures and ushers them along.

“Hall 7?  Sam asks.

“Hang a left, walk to the end of the hall, there’s a bunch of halls, you’ll find it.”  She shoves Dean, interrupting his last lingering look at Cas. Once the brothers finally round the corner Charlie turns to Castiel and their eyes meet.

“Hungry?”  Charlie asks and Cas nods, smiling shyly.  They make idle small talk while waiting in line for some pizza.  By the time they’re seated Cas is on the topic of fighting styles…

“-I’ve trained in every style of known combat over the last milenia.”

“Are angels supposed to be warriors of God or something?”  Charlie asks then sips her drink.

“Exactly.  I commanded my own Garrison when I met Dean.”  

“Well what happened when you met Dean?”  Charlie is intrigued as she takes another bite of her cheese slice.  Cas smiles fondly recalling the memories.

“He made me question things.”  Charlie wrinkles her nose.

“And that’s a bad thing?” 

“Angel’s are made to follow orders.  Humans are made for free will.”

“So Dean made you question orders?”

“Yes.”  There’s still a little smile on his face.  “I rebelled against heaven for him. The angels were willing to let Michael and Lucifer fight which would result in the world being destroyed.”  Charlie takes a moment to let that soak in. Dean and Sam only vaguely mentioned that first apocalypse they averted.

“So you’re rebellious?”  Charlie asks Cas as he chews his slive.  He smirks at her, eyes twinkling but doesn’t respond.  Charlie laughs and lets the silence lapse over their table; both of them munching in peace.  Charlie eats the final bite and wipes grease off her fingers as Cas is sipping down water.

“Cas?”

“Hm?”

“Is it also against angel programming to fall in love?”  Cas watches Charlie, squints his eyes fractionally, and also wipes his fingers.  

“Yes.”  He doesn’t meet Charlie’s eyes but feels her patient gaze on him, she desperately hoping he will continue.  He doesn’t. Several loaded moments pass.

“Cas-”

“Angels are expected to love God and we are supposed to love his creations.  But not in any romantic fashion as a human would think of it.” Charlie pauses for a moment before asking her next question.

“Have any angels ever fallen in love?”  Cas shoots her a quick hard glare before looking away again.

“With other angels, occasionally.”

“With humans?”  Cas’ eyes snap back to Charlie’s and this time he holds her gaze.

“It’s considered blasphemous.”  Cas keeps staring her down, but a little conspiratorial smile up Charlie’s face breaking his concentration. 

“But it’s happened?”

“Barely.”  Cas has a grave look on his face thinking of Akobel.  Charlie frowns slightly, studying him.

“Are emotions different now that you’re human?”  Cas nods.

“Although I’ve lost most of my more supernatural senses and abilities; my vision and meaning has been… dulled.  My emotions, however, have become much more vivid.” 

“That must be hard.”  Charlie sympathizes and Cas tilts his head slightly.

“What?”  He asks as he goes to sip some more water out of his straw, picking up the cup.  Charlie shrugs with nonchalance. 

“Being in love with Dean.”  Cas’ following gasp puts water straight into his windpipe, which is not ideal for human lungs.  He’s spluttering water all over the table, coughing up the traitorous liquid while strangers glance at him with mild concern.  Charlie is watching all of this, hiding giggles behind her hand until she begins to feel guilty and stands up to pat his back. “Sorry Cas, I didn’t mean to-... but you guys aren’t very subtle.”  Cas’s eyes bulge which he tries to cover with a glare, the effect is probably lost to the red faced coughing he’s still sporting. Thankfully it begins to subside and Charlie sits back down. 

He doesn’t know what to say.   _ In love with Dean? _

He opens his mouth hoping something will come out but-

_ Love. _

He looks at Charlie helplessly.  

“Oh, honey.”  Charlie quickly scoots her chair to him, their knees bump and she reaches over to rub his arm.  “You didn’t-” Cas shakes his head. “Shit, I’m sorry Cas.” 

“We’re not very subtle?”  Cas’ eyes bulge and he grips Charlie’s knee, metaphorical light bulb flickering to life.  “ _ We’re _ ?”  It’s now Charlie’s turn to look a bit lost.

“I could be reading way too much into this Cas, but I-”  

“You’re a homosexual, you would recognize the signs.  I trust your judgement of us displaying symptoms of potential…”  Charlie squeezes his knee.

“Hey, hey now.  Don’t put it like that.  One: because saying being queer has symptoms, is like saying it’s a sickness.  And two: this isn’t a bad thing, this could be wonderful! Best thing ever in my opinion!  Nothing better than a lover who’s your best friend.”

“I didn’t even realize that’s what this was.  This feeling.” He leans back, stare going vacant.  Charlie can’t tell if he’s moving into shock or acceptance.  But she lets him soak it in anyway. She clears there plates and leaves the table to throw them away, then comes back to the table to find Cas more or less the same way she left him.  She gently places a hand on his shoulder and he cranes his neck to look up at her.

“What do you need right now, sweetie?”  Charlie asks, squeezing his shoulder for even more support.  

“Something stronger than water and carbonated beverages.”  Cas deadpans. 

“Drinks it is.  Then we need to meet back up with the boys for the panel.”  

Cas gets up and they walk silently through the crowds, dodging cosplayers and other various geeks.  Cas pretty much stares at his shoes the entire time, so obviously deep in thought Charlie occasionally grabs his arm so she won’t lose him.  The drinks are expensive, but she orders Cas a double vodka lemonade and herself a dirty shirley. Cas easily downs the drink and another one before he’s gathered up the courage to speak, Charlie still politely sips on her straw.  

“Do I have to tell him?”  The ex-angel looks so scared it makes Charlie want to cry.

“No, you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”  Charlie reassures him. Cas ponders this, a slight frown on his lips and thought lines curving deeply on his forehead. 

“But what if I want to?”  Cas’ eyes dart to hers, piercing blue insecurity on replay.   Charlie sighs.

“ _ IF _ you want to, then we can cross that bridge when you get there.  But for now you should just let things sink in. You didn’t even realize that’s how you felt until today.”  

“That’s not entirely true.  I knew how I was feeling, even as an angel when I knew I shouldn’t be feeling that way.  I just hadn’t put a name to it, until you did today.” Charlie frowns at this revelation.

“So how long…?”  Charlie asks. Cas gives her this knowing look, almost patronizing but also pained.  Charlie winces and finishes the rest of her drink in one go. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I haven't posted on this chapter in forever, but my goal is to have it completely finished and posted before the bidding closes on this round of FicFacers!!!!! If you want more information on that go to ficfacers.com  
> Until next time please leave your thoughts, questions, and predictions in the comments! I love reading and responding to all of them. Thank you for reading I appreciate you so much!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here are my FC's or face claims for my OC's in this fic.  
> I picture Jenna Coleman as Erata.  
> Ricky Whittle as Coy.  
> And the lovely Ruby Rose as our mysterious tattooed woman.  
> I wanted to share those because I'm constantly thinking about what a good looking couple I've made here.  
> Here's for all the Walking Dead fun in this chapter. For reference, the 2013 NYCC TWD panel took place the day before the premiere of season 4 for TWD. I had fun rewatching this panel, and if any of you are also fans and feel like indulging, you can find it really easily on youtube.  
> Anyway, enjoy the chapter! I'll see you at the bottom!

_ As time wades by we all shall succumb. _

_ Feeling the pressure of becoming numb. _

_ Learn to drink and live through the potion, _

_ So you can feel the waves of the Ocean. _

* * *

 

The back hallway they find themselves in is concrete on all four sides, with some exposed PBC pipes and various other things that make up the interior of a building.  Erata doesn’t really care to look too closely. The heavy door shuts behind them as the woman they’d been following turns around. Plain mousy blonde hair, a grey sweater, and dark wash jeans stands before the couple, folding her arms and looking disapprovingly between the two.  Erata glares back and Coy rolls his eyes, leaning casually against the door.

“From what I know, you have been warned about this type of interference twice before.”  The woman reprimands them, looking tired.

“From what I know your kind only know how to suck the fun out of everything.”  Erata snarks back, her husband touches her arm trying to calm her. 

“Now now.”  Coy rubs up and down her arm then turns back to the woman.  “You’re upsetting my wife, whoever you are, and we’d prefer you just left us alone.”  The woman rolls her eyes and lets out a frustrated sigh.

“ _ My name _ is Odette.  And I don’t care if I’m upsetting her, you’re messing with Destiny and she will not be pleased.  You do not have the right to interfere with matched couples. This is your third and final warning before-”

“Before what?” Erata snaps, stepping away from her husband and towards Odette threateningly.  “Before you try to stop us? We’d like to see you try! WE don’t answer to your God! Hell, we don’t even answer to our own anymore, cause why would they care?  So I won’t be ponying up to your feathery ass.” Erata yells. Then with a huff she storms out of the dark, bland hall and back onto the Artist Alley floor. Coy watches after her, waiting until the door clicks shut.  He raises one finger, twists it to the side and the sound of the door lock bolting echoes down the cavernous hall.

“She’s right, you know.  We don’t fall underneath your Christianity umbrella, so it’s time for you to buzz off.”  Coy glares at Odette. She puts up her arms in a placating gesture. 

“Listen to me or don’t.  I don’t care. All I know is that if you continue to interfere in the lives of Dean Winchester and Castiel, there will be serious consequences.  So I suggest you heed my warning.” 

“You test my patience and you don’t even know who you’re testing.  You’re as insignificant as an ant, so  _ I _ suggest you  _ leave _ .  Before I add you into the game too.”  Coy tells her, voice threatening. He steps closer to Odette who backs up a step in response.  Coy smirks, knowing she’s afraid, then with a flick of his wrist the door opens and he exits.

Odette breathes a sigh of relief.  Now that that’s done, what next? She turns around and walks off down the hallway into darkness hoping to make a few matches before moving to her next scheduled location.  A shiver runs down her spine at the feeling of being watched. She pauses, checks up and down the corridor, but sees no one and senses nothing. With a shrug she continues on.

* * *

 

The line for the Walking Dead panel is outrageous by the time Dean and Sam spot Charlie and Cas waiting for them, thankfully in the upper fifty percent of said queue.  Charlie is gesturing frantically for them to hurry up so Dean breaks into a slight jog with Sam right behind him. They hop in line with their two friends just five minutes before the doors open for seating.  Dean glances at Cas who isn’t looking at him, instead he has his eyes glued towards the front of the line. Dean gives him a weird look just as Charlie speaks up.

“Hey guys!  How was Mr. Hogan?”  Dean and Sam cringe at the same time.  Speaking over each other they chime in telling her she shouldn’t call him that and to also never say that again.  Like ever. Charlie just laughs. “So was it good?” The brothers smile at each other and nod.

“Yeah, pretty decent!”  Sam says.

“But if we tell you are you gonna understand a word of it?”  Dean asks. Charlie shakes her head.

“Nope, not a bit.  I don’t even get how ‘wrestling’ and ‘nerdiness’ overlap.  Not judging, just thoroughly confused.”

“I suppose it’s just another field of expertise some people can obsess over.  Also, it’s just as real as the rest of this so it fits.” Cas adds in, Charlie bursts out laughing just as Dean smacks him in the arm causing Cas to look over at the two of them.

“Hey!  Wrestling is totally real, Cas.”  Dean tells him off.

“Yeah, ouch.”  Sam adds. “We should’ve never explained sarcasm to you.”  Cas knows they’re both joking with him, feigning upset, but that one look at Dean has his throat feeling tight, so he looks away again.  Both Sam and Charlie see the look of confusion that passes over Dean’s face. The air around the quartet starts to grow awkward the longer Cas isn’t looking at Dean.  Charlie and Sam start gushing about how excited they are for the next panel but they can only pull in the other two for minor comments. It’s exhausting trying to break apart the tension.  Not to mention completely ineffective. Charlie leans in and whispers in Sam’s ear.

“Is it always like this when they’re fighting?”  Sam nods and closes his eyes to pinch the bridge of his nose. 

“I have a specific migraine reserved for these two.” 

Dean and Cas stand side by side not looking at each other as the conversation behind them carries on without them even bothering to listen.  Cas is counting the seconds until they move and also noting how many times Dean has glanced at him since the brothers joined them in line. He’s also trying not to notice the way his heart rate rises every time this happens.  Cas desperately wants to pretend this is a new development and he does truly feel that part of it can be attributed to the recently discovered nerves of the situation, but the other part of him knows with one hundred percent clarity that this has always been the case with Dean.

Dean on the other hand is silently brooding, wondering what the hell it is he did to Cas to piss him off.  Or if maybe he hurt his feelings by not including him to go sit in on the panel. His anxiety builds the more he thinks about it.  Perhaps he had spent their forty five minutes apart ranting about his new living conditions, and how much everything sucks being a human.  Especially having to spend time with Dean twenty-four seven. Then Dean starts to wonder if maybe something has been wrong all along, and he just hasn’t bothered to notice.  Or maybe he noticed but didn’t bother to ask, and honestly, Dean doesn’t know which one makes him a more shitty friend. But probably both. So it is with great hesitancy that Dean gently nudges Cas’ shoulder with his own. 

The ex-angel turns his gaze on Dean in surprise but doesn’t say anything.  Dean happily breathes in the sight of those blue eyes, bathing in the fact that he doesn’t seem mad and the relief that brings him.

“Hey, you okay?”  Dean asks, searching those eyes, hoping there isn’t anything hidden.  Cas can’t breathe while Dean is looking at him like that. Like all that matters to Dean Winchester is  _ him _ .  It just doesn’t make sense.  There’s so many more important things in this world.  It scares Cas a bit, so he looks away and gazes off sadly.

“Charlie and I had an interesting conversation and I’m still just..”  Cas pauses and looks at Dean again. Wondering how he ever missed any of this.  “Processing, so to speak. I’ll get over it.” Dean wrinkles his brow in confusion, a slightly hurt look in his eyes.

“Do you wanna talk about it?”  Dean asks. Cas pauses, thinking.  His eyes trail over the features of Dean’s face as he does so… until he realizes he’s staring so he stops, and nods.

“Maybe I will later, but not now.”  Dean nods, looking disappointed and turns away, noticing the line finally moving he watches the people in front of him start to slinky into the auditorium. “Is that okay?” Cas asks.  Dean turns his eyes back to his best friend, watches him for a moment and then gives him a half smile. 

“As long as you’re okay.  We can talk about whatever it is, whenever.”  Cas nods at this, feeling the tension between them release.  Behind them, Charlie and Sam sigh in relief. Sam leans into Charlie’s ear and whispers to her.

“Do I wanna know what you two talked about?” He asks.  Charlie raises her hand up to shoulder height and tilts it side to side.

“Maybe later.”  She parrots her answer and Sam nods covering a laugh with a cough.  

Everyone files into the auditorium, the excitement in the air is palpable.  A cacophony of people's voices chattering about their favorite show and characters.  The four take seats about a quarter of the way back, twenty or so rows from the stage.  On the stage there is a long table set up with a black tablecloth adorned with the convention logo, microphones, water bottles, and chairs set up all along the back.  On the left of the table is a podium with another microphone. The hall is huge with tall ceilings, easily a thousand people could and will fill this space judging by the line they were in.  

As more and more people crowd in there are photographers and videographers lining the side aisles, camera flashes going off intermittently.  People are rushing to the sides behind microphones in hopes of asking the cast and crew questions later.

“Nerds assemble.”  Dean comments to Charlie which makes her laugh.

“We are a force to be reckoned with.”  Charlie agrees. 

“Amen.”  Sam chimes in, and when Cas glares at him all three burst out laughing.  Dean reaches over and pats Cas on the back.

“You love this too, don’t deny it.” Cas just rolls his eyes as he turns his gaze back to the stage, eagerly awaiting the actors from the zombie show.  A little smile turns up his lips when Dean’s arm stays casually draped across the back of his chair. Dean turns to chat with Charlie and Sam, while Cas is just happy to listen to their chatter mixed in with the chatter of hundreds of other humans.  Things like this would have overwhelmed him as an angel, but as a human they seem tolerable in moderate doses. In fact, they almost seem necessary to understand the full experience. 

Ten minutes later an announcer comes over the sound system and everyone in the room goes nuts cheering.  Charlie practically loses her head because it almost blends in with her hair. Sam woops while Dean nudges him to cheer too, watching Cas to make sure he’s enjoying himself.  So Cas gets into it and smiles so brightly at Dean’s happy laugh. 

A vivacious black woman walks out on stage and as she attempts to speak over the microphone the crowd starts to chill out.

“Hey guys! Hey guys!  Let me tell you something.  First of all! The standing ovation was a really nice touch, I gotta say.  Really nice. Thank you. For those who participated and those who didn’t I know you’re just saving it for the reason we’re all here; which is THE WALKING DEAD!”  Everyone cheers again, including the moderator. “Cause that’s like- that’s my Oprah excitement for the moment ‘cause I’m super duper excited. Okay guys, so I wanna start off by bringing out- First of all, thanks for coming, that’s the first thing.”  More audience cheering, though Cas doesn’t know why. “Yes. It’s important. Second, I’d like to start by bringing out two of your executive producers of this fabulous show.” Cas’ brow furrows in confusion, he leans into Dean and asks:

“What is the point of an ‘executive producer’?” Dean leans into him and answers over the cheering of the crowd.

“They’re the people with the money that make the show or movie or whatever happen.”  Dean tells him.

“They pay the bills?”  Cas asks for clarification and Dean nods.  Said producers proceed to get up and talk about the show and it’s successes.  Cas tunes out, mainly sneaking glances at Dean to see how he reacts to what they say.  Dean is far more interesting than the white man and woman riling up the chorusing of screams from the front of the room.  However when they announce that they will be showing some new clip of the show, Dean gets excited and smiles at Cas. Cas smiles back. 

The clip shows four characters in a car.  Cas recognizes Michonne and Daryl in the front.  As they drive Daryl casually dodges ‘walkers’ until they drive into a hoard.  The entire audience starts screaming NO as the ‘walkers’ surround the car. 

“There’s no way they’d kill Daryl.”  Cas comments to Dean.

“Obviously not, but the rest of those suckers are fair game.”  Dean responds.

“They better leave Michonne alone, she’s literally the best character in the whole show.  And she’s so important in the comics.” Charlie adds in. All four nod in agreement, even though neither Cas or Dean has ever read the comics.

The panel continues after the clip with the moderator bringing in more tech and money people.  All four give mild clapping for each person, until finally it’s time for the cast to come out and the audience starts to go wild.

“You know him as Rick Grimes… Andrew Lincoln!” Calls out the mediator, and Dean jumps to his feet, yelling excitedly. 

“Yes!  Rick is the best!  Woo!” Sam and Charlie laugh at him through their cheers.  Andrew walks on stage waving and gives a little salute before sitting.

“You know her as the mighty Michonne… Danai Gurira.”  At this point Charlie loses her damn mind.

“Danai I love you!”  She screams and all of the boys cheer with her.  

“By chance, do you have a celeb crush, Charlie?”  Sam asks, loud enough for the other two to hear. Charlie nods enthusiastically.

“How could you  _ not _ ?  That chick can handle a sword like it’s nobody’s business.”

Cas is surprised to note that Danai does not wear her hair the same way as Michonne, but she still looks just as pleasant.  After her the next people that come out are Glenn played by Steven Yeun and Maggie played by Lauren Cohan. Sam and Dean give each other odd looks as Lauren walks across stage in her bright pink top.

“Is it just me or does she look-”  Sam asks as Dean interrupts.

“Not just you, but could it really-”  Dean starts but Sam interrupts him.

“Nah, there’s no way.”  Sam denies, shaking his head.

“Yeah, you’re right.”  Dean aggrees thinking about how his life could use a coincidence or two for once.  Something that normal and mundane people experience.

Charlie looks exceptionally annoyed being in the middle of half a conversation.

“You guys wanna share with the rest of the class?”  Both brothers look at each other, then look at Charlie to answer at the same time.

“You don’t wanna know.”  Charlie rolls her eyes. 

Next up on stage is Tyrese played by Chad Coleman and the infamous Daryl played by Norman Reedus.  The crowd is louder than it’s ever been, cheering over the moderator so you can’t even hear her. As he walks out on stage, tossing items into the crowd, what Cas suspects are t-shirts.  He passes one to Andrew who also tosses one out into the crowd.

The panel continues with the lovely moderator fronting questions to the whole group onstage as well as individuals.  They talk about upcoming plots, new characters, character arcs, romances between characters, and funny moments backstage.  At one point Andrew speaks and Dean startles next to him.

“He’s a brit?  Rick is a brit? What?!”  He’s clearly flabbergasted.

“He’s very good at accents.”  Cas tells him. Dean nods, still looking disturbed.  Sam and Dean share another look when Lauren aka ‘Maggie’ is easily heard over the mics for the first time.

“We still sure-”

“Shut up, Sam.”  Dean tells him. And that’s the last of that.

At another point Norman aka ‘Daryl’ says,

“Walking Dead Orgies!”  With a fist pump. Cas looks over at his friends confused.  

“Why orgies?”  Cas asks. Dean turns pink on the top tips of his ears and shifts slightly in his seat.  Charlie turns to answer him and giggles at Dean’s uncomfortable expression.

“Why have sex with lots of people?”  Charlie rebuttals. Dean rubs the back of his neck and shrugs.

“Cause it’s fun?”  Dean adds and Sam laughs.  Cas still looks confused watching Dean’s reactions further, he asks another question waiting until Dean looks at him before asking.

“Is sex with one person alone not enjoyable as is?”  Cas tilts his head slightly for full affect. Dean’s eyes grow huge looking at Cas and his mouth pops open, letting out a little breath.  Just like that the room full of people cheering and everything else drops away. All Dean can notice is how Cas is leaned towards him to talk and how his eyes are piercing into him with that curious observation he’s adopted since becoming human.  Dean’s whole body heats up and he has to fight with himself so hard not to look away, or down, or to anything else about this moment that might be distracting him. 

“It is.”  Dean finally answers.  Cas nods once and turns away, diligently tuning back into the panel.  The noise of the crowd reaches Dean’s ears once more and he shakes his head to ward off the whirlwind of sensations that question gave him.  Slowly he relaxes and notices his arm is still draped across the back of Cas’ chair. He gives Cas’ shoulders a light squeeze. He makes sure to not try and analyze why he does it.

At another point in the panel a question from the audience comes from a masked person, who ends up being an actor cosplaying his own character that he will be playing on The Walking Dead.  Dean and Cas watch as Sam and Charlie get exceptionally excited, but neither of the former have a clue who it is. 

A little while later a little girl gets up to ask a question, the entire cast is so enamoured they invite her onstage and let her stay up there with them.  Cas finds humans tolerance of the younger in their species differing, but usually adorable. They all fawn over her and happily accept her bracelets she made for them.  It makes them all smile differently from any of the other things in the panel. 

More people make requests of the actors.  Norman gives up his water bottle to one lady and calls another’s terminally ill wife.  The panel is wrapping up and all four are thoroughly buzzed with energy when the mediator starts teasing one of the producers for another sneak peek of the actual show.  Instead, an image of what they call a ‘moss walker’ is shown up on the projector screen. The decaying creature is propped up against a tree. Skin a sickly yellow shade, eyes hollowing in and blood shot.  Legs becoming one with the floor of nature as moss and roots grow up around it. Charlie gags a bit at the grotesque details of decay. Sam and Dean just shrug, both thinking of grosser remains they’d found inside graves that needed to be salt and burned.  Cas contemplates the human fascination with gore and it’s complex levels of disturbing. Also, how talented humans have become in the last sixty years alone with their work on visual effects. 

Just as the mediator is commenting on how ‘nasty’ said zombie is, a piercing scream rings through the air.  At first, no one really reacts. But then the scream starts up again and the crowd riles up a bit as all of the actors look off right towards the noise in confusion and concern.  

“Everyone please remain calm, security is looking into it.”  The mediator tells the room. The panicked murmurs die down slightly but the screaming starts up again before it’s roughly cut off.  Sam and Dean exchange looks and stand up. Cas and Charlie follow suit as Dean leads the way towards the sound, already pulling his emergency badge out of his pocket.  

“No rest for the Wicked.”  He says glumly and Sam grunts in agreement behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So what did you guys think?? Please let me know! Things will start to pick up more and more from here on out. This is the wind up before the pitch. Hope you're ready for the curveball.  
> See you all again tomorrow!


	4. Chapter 4

_ So let yourself be free, _

_ And soon then you will see. _

_ The way you can find me, _

_ Is your own harmony. _

 

_ Don’t lock yourself away, _

_ Come find the light of day. _

_ That room is far too small, _

_ For you should have it all. _

 

Odette bumps into a couple of young twenty somethings taking a selfie together.  Apologizing profusely she touches them both on the shoulder and hurries away, a small smug smile on her face.  She glances over her shoulder to see the two smiling softly at each other, almost dazed and mentally pats herself on the back in congradulations.  Another job well done. She takes in the sights of the wide open, two leveled entrance hall. So crowded with people moving this way and that. Impressive costumes, dedicated costumes, specific costumes.  It all makes her smile. That makes four couples for the day in one location. She smiles brighter leaning against the nearest wall to watch the crowd flow by around her.

Across the room she spots two girls dressed as Disney princesses Ariel and Belle.  Both wearing flowing ball gowns, (one teal, one yellow) and stopping to take pictures with any kids that ask.  A happy smile crosses her face. Her last couple for the day is right on time. They make their way across the floor as Odette pulls out her phone and steps out from the wall tapping Ariel on the shoulder.

“Excuse me but, you two are just so beautiful, could I get a picture with you both?”  Odette pretends to be shy and both girls smile happily at her.

“Aww thank you so much,Of course you can!”  Ariel responds, turning to Belle who nods and smiles, then turns to the guy next to her.

“Aaron, would you mind?”  Belle asks, Aaron nods. Odette guesses he’s the designated bag carrier.  Not a lot of room for personal items in ball gowns. Aaron accepts Odette’s phone as Odette steps in the middle of the girls and places her hands at the small of each of their backs. 

“You know, you two would be perfect for each other.”  Odette says happily, then smiles as the picture is taken.  After the picture both girls look at her with mild confusion, but when their eyes lock on each other Odette witnesses her favorite thing in all the universes once again.  It starts like curiosity, then it softens with consideration. Then all at once the pupils dilate with the realization and wonder. They’re still staring at each other as Odette collects her phone and skitters away.   She looks back over her shoulder in time to see Aaron waving his hand in between the two ladies to gain their attention. They smile and glance at each other one more time before moving on. It’s a whole new world for them.

Moments like this make the unpleasantness of Odette’s job earlier in the day so much more bearable.  In fact these moments make it wonderful. Odette starts humming to herself her favorite Nat King Cole song and makes her way to a maintenance door.  Her time here has come to a very successful end. It’s time she disappeared subtly and moved to her next location. 

The first exit she notices is too crowded to be entered without anyone noticing so she carefully picks her way through the crowd and down to the lower levels.  The photo op and signature hall is to her right, which is always too busy. The panel rooms and auditorium are on her left, usually easier as long as she can sneak by security.  Or just… be security. Walking behind a large support post her gray sweater turns into the bright orange with black writing seen all over this venue. 

She’s just entering the queue hall as the people gathered there erupt into a ruckus of screams and cheers watching over the monitor. Some panel going on gives them some love for coming and sympathy for being stuck outside because of seating capacity.  One of the actors on stage makes fun of them for not getting here sooner to which all others on stage berate him for. At the top of the queue she spots the perfect way out and slips through it. Just as she closes the door, however, she crashes into someone sending the other person spiraling down onto the floor.

“Oh my goodness!  I am so sorry I didn’t see you there.”  Odette gushes, crouching down to see if she’s injured the young woman with short hair.  The woman chuckles a bit, dusts her jacket off and sits up partially.

“No permanent damage, at least.  But I’ve lost my toothpick.” She comments.  

“I’m so sorry.”  Odette apologizes yet again. “Can I get you another one?” 

“No worries.”  The woman reaches in her jacket and pulls out a small plastic box filled with little brown sticks.  Odette glimpses dark black and grey tattoos covering her chest and neck, just barely visible in the dim lighting.  “I’ve got more.” Slender fingers pluck open the box and pull out another toothpick to place between her lips. 

“You know that’s dangerous!  Having something sharp like that between your teeth.  You could swallow it! Or hurt yourself if you fall again.”  Odette worries, still crouched on the floor with the strange woman.  The woman chuckles in response, spinning the toothpick with her teeth.

“This isn’t the most dangerous thing I’ve got on me, so I tend not to worry about it.”  Odette startles at that, but accepts the woman’s hand as she reaches out for help with the hand not occupied putting away the toothpick box.  She pulls back and stands up to pull the woman with her as she says.

“What could be more dangerous than choking?”  Odette asks, if she had more time she would have smacked herself for being such an idiot.  Or she would have told herself to pay closer attention to the woman’s other hand. But she didn’t, she only barely saw the glint of silver as it charged into her gut.  

“Typically...blades.”  The woman answers just as pain begins to blossom from the inside of Odette’s ribcage.  Her blood spills out, staining the orange shirt. Her mouth pops open in surprise, screams ripping from her throat, a noise that terrifies her.  She’s never heard herself make it before. She glances down and sees the hilt of an angel blade buried deep in her midsection, the tattoos of the woman’s hand visible creeping up her wrist just where her sleeve has scrunched up from her grip on the blade.  

She screams again, not realizing she ever stopped screaming in the first place.  She wonders what’s next for her and pales at the realization that nothing comes next.  There’s no heaven for Cherubs, just the empty. Or perhaps she’s just going pale from blood loss.  There’s not much left to fear at this point anyway. Fear is only something for the living, it all ends once you die.  As she looks back up at the woman she almost looks repentant about what’s happening, but more so she looks disgusted. 

“I’m glad you screamed, it makes starting the next part of the game so much easier.  Scream again, that’ll really get them in here.” The woman tells her, in hushed tones.  Odette doesn’t know why any of this is happening to her, she wants to ask why but she can’t seem to form words anymore.  She doesn’t feel the shove, or the way her back bounces off the wall, or the way the blade leaves her body. She hears the squelching noise of her guts readjusting to its absence.  She hears the thud of her body as in crashes into the wall and settles on the floor. She watches as the world tilts and shakes with her fall. She hears her screams as she goes down and the way her throat roughly cuts off the sound as she hits the floor.  She doesn’t feel much of anything anymore.

The last things she’ll see is this dreary cement hallway.  So she closes her eyes, attempting to block out the horror and pain, and thinks of something better to be her ‘last thing’.  She pictures her last couple, her princesses. Their real names are Sydney and Lilah. She pictures the way they looked at each other, and she hopes they never let the other go.  She hopes they find a castle, that they always have fun, that they never need a prince; only themselves.

Then Odette lets go.

* * *

 

The four hunters make a beeline for where all the people in bright orange shirts are gathering.  There’s a hushed panic happening that the whole audience can see and that they’re desperately trying to contain.  Dean gets there first, flashing his FBI badge to the confused looking workers. Out of the corner of his eye he sees Cas and Sam pull theirs out as well.

“FBI.  I’m Detective Jenkins, these are my partners Holloway and Roo.”  Dean tells the man with the walkie whos seems to be trying to achieve order.

“And who’s she?” The guy asks, nervous and suspicious of everyone, which is totally not a good sign. 

“Our specialist.  Now, are you gonna let us help and keep this Con running, or would you rather we shut it all down?”  Dean asks the guy sternly. Sam steps up next to him nodding at his brother. The guy stutters out an answer.

“I-, uh… We’re not trained for this, it’s just-..”

“Show us what happened and we’ll handle it from there.”  Sam tells the guy, trying to be the comforting and calm one as usual.  The guy nods and gestures for them to follow. He leads them to a door adjacent to the stage leading into a maintenance hallway.  The smell of blood hits all four of them as soon as the door is open. Charlie tries to hold in her gag but doesn’t succeed.

“By the time someone found her she was-.. She..” The walkie guy tells them just as they’re about to round a corner.  Sam grabs his shoulder and stops him, seeing the guy is practically shaking. 

“Hey, what’s your name?”  Sam asks softly.

“D-Derrick.”  The guy manages.  

“Okay, Derrick.  Why don’t you just wait back out there and we’ll do the rest.  Just keep people away. Sound good?” The guy just nods and quickly ducks back out the door at Sam’s suggestion.  Dean sighs.

“Civilians.”  He mutters and then leads the four of them around the corner.  Charlie reaches out for Cas’ arm and wraps it in a vice like grip.  He looks at her confused.

“I’m not good with this whole dead body thing yet.”  Charlie admits, getting a sympathetic look from Cas. 

“You don’t have to be.”  He tells her. “Why don’t you just wait here around the corner, so you can talk with us without having to-...” 

“Thanks Cas.”  Charlie slumps in relief.  With that taken care of Cas catches up to Sam and Dean who are already standing over the dead woman.

“How could there be a case at Comic-Con?  I mean, can’t we just go one place fun and cool where nothing supernatural happens? Ever?!” Dean complains and Sam rolls his eyes.

“Her eyes are burned out and she’s got what looks like an angel blade sized hole in her midsection, just underneath her sternum.  Cas, can you confirm?” Sam asks. Cas steps up closer and crouches down by the victim, the scent of blood almost overwhelming to his human nostrils.  She lays flat on her back, head bent at an awkward angle from where she probably slid down the wall and hit the floor. Her eyes are burned out, but there’s no easy way to make out if there’s a wing pattern on the ground in this lighting.  

Cas looks at the whole picture.  Early 30’s woman, wearing a bright orange security shirt and security lanyard which slopes to the side.  Straight blonde hair, neatly combed, but hanging loose which is not typical of most angels in his sector.  Dark wash jeans, nothing in the pockets, no I.D., with one hand clutching at the wound and the other sprawled face up on the floor.  And on her palm… Cas scooches over closer and picks up the hand to open the fingers and get a better look. Her skin is clammy with it’s attempt to hold on to warmth.  A futile effort.

“What is it Cas?  What’d ya find?” Dean asks as Cas sighs, almost dropping the woman’s hand but instead tilting it for Dean and Sam to see.  “She’s got a tattoo? On her palm? That must’ve hurt.”

“Cas, is that… a bow and arrow?”  Sam asks, squatting to get a closer look and taking the woman’s hand from Cas so he can stand up.  He looks at Dean sadly.

“She’s a cherub.”

“A cherub… as in a cupid?”  Dean clarifies. “I mean, yeah sure they can be annoying but why would anybody want to kill one?”  Cas shrugs, at a loss for words. 

“Maybe it was another angel?  Upset about the fall and not thinking rationally?”  Sam suggests. 

“Uh, not to sound paranoid guys…”  Charlie calls from around the corner.  “But murders don’t usually happen at con…. Like ever.  So maybe somebody knows you three are here.” Both Sam and Dean groan in frustration.  

“We can’t rule that out.”  Sam agrees. 

“While either way.  We need to go grill security, see if anyone saw anything.  Mainly who else might of been back here. Any cameras?” 

“We’re in a maintenance hallway Dean, why would there be cameras?”  Cas asks sarcastically and Dean turns to him annoyed.

“I didn’t ask for snark.  I’m trying to work, even though I don’t want to!”  Dean answers in frustration. Sam rolls his eyes at the bickering couple and walks back around the corner to find Charlie eagerly waiting for an escape.

“I’m gonna get started, you two coming?”  Sam asks.

“Yeah yeah.  We’re coming, Mom.”  Dean quips following Sam around the corner and leaving Cas to bring up the rear.  Charlie opens the door to the sound of cheering from the panel audience and a serious lack of bright orange t-shirts.

“Uh… guys?”  She asks, stopping dead in her tracks.  Sam is holding open the door, Dean and Cas haven’t even made it out of the hallway yet.

“Find that Derrick guy Sam, maybe he can organize all of his neon people.”  

“He’s gone, Dean.”  Sam responds turning back to give his brother a baffled look.  Dean looks back at Cas in confusion and then tries to peer over his brother’s shoulder.

“What do you mean he’s gone?  Like he broke off to go cry in the bathroom?”  

“No as in… they’re all gone.”  Charlie answers him. Dean pushes Sam to the side so he can look around and Cas sees just past Dean as Charlie waves at the audience and no one notices.  “HEY!” She shouts, but no one moves or reacts. A security person walks right in front of her and doesn’t even notice her. She turns back to the boys. “Guys, what’s happening?”

“Trouble.”  Cas answers gruffly.  An idea strikes him and he dashes back around the corner.

“Hey, Cas! Wha-?”  Dean goes after him, Sam stays by the door until Charlie gets back in the hallway.

“Guys?” Sam calls out.

“Sam, the cherub is gone.”  Cas responds as he comes back around the corner, Dean hot on his tail.

“As in her body or-?” 

“No, everything Sammy.  Not even a drop of blood.”  Dean tells his brother.

“Have I mentioned how much fun hanging out with you guys is?  ‘Cause it’s an absolute riot!” Charlie chimes in sarcastically and on the verge of panic.  “What the hell is happening?” She exclaims, all three guys look back at her utterly baffled.  They exit the hallway together, feeling claustrophobic in the small dark space.

“Whatever is doing this is seriously powerful.  I can sense the power waves in the air.” Cas tells them.  They all turn to look at him, which is when the horrible feelings of dizziness and nausea start to set in.  

“Guys, I think we should leave.”  Charlie tells them as her hands go to grab the sides of her head.  “I’m getting a migraine.” Dean stumbles as he too, presses a hand to his forehead, stumbling slightly. 

“Agh!  What the fuck is this?”  Dean cries out in frustration.  Sam tries to squeeze his eyes shut, bracing a hand on the wall for support. 

“I have the horrible feeling it’s too late to leave.”  Cas adds as he too feels a rhythmic pounding echo through his skull.  Sam groans loudly in pain and collapses to the ground first.

“Sam!” Dean calls out dropping to his knees and reaching for his brother.  Charlie goes down next, not able to keep her eyes open any longer. Cas looks around as his eyes start to cloud over with whatever is happening to them.  He knows that whatever killed the cherub has gotten it’s horrible claws in the four of them too, he prays that they’re strong enough to survive. He prays he’ll get the chance to talk to Dean still. 

He falls to his knees as the air around him seems to go grey.

“Dean?” Cas croaks out, unable to see him he feels for him.

“Cas..”  Dean’s voice is like a whisper.  The audience bursts out laughing as the last of their awareness is cut off from them.  They all fall into the dark land of unconsciousness. 

* * *

 

Coy catches up with his wife, sitting in a grumpy huff at her art booth.  The crowd in the alley is noticeably less dense and time is wearing thin. Wiping his hands off with his handkerchief as he approaches the booth he speaks.

“Time for us to leave my darling.”  He pockets the cloth. Erata watches the motion and then her eyes track up his lean body.

“You’ve captured all the pieces my King?”  

“A fool’s mate, my dear.”  Erata breaks out into an astonishing smile, ever enamoured with her wonderful, gorgeous, not to mention brilliant husband.  “Thank you my dear, but you’re just as lovely.”

“Did I say all that out loud?”  Erata giggles.

“You have this adorable habit of narrating when you’re excited.  I’m glad to see that smile. I wasn’t about to let that boring frump ruin all our fun.”  Erata nods and jumps up to kiss Coy. He picks her up and spins her around, sharing her joy he laughs.  Gently he sets her back on her feet. “Come on now my love, we have work to do.” Erata smiles and eagerly takes his hand.  They exit the booth just as a crowd of zombie cosplayers limps by. When they finally have moseyed past, the entire booth set up and the couple have vanished.  Not a single person notices they’ve left, almost as if they were never really there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, how are you guys feeling? Ready for more? I know I'm really excited to write out this next part. It's got me hanging on the edge of my seat and I'm the one writing it. I've finished ironing out all of the literary components today, just need to figure out order of appearance and flow.  
> Leave me all of your comments and criticisms! I love you all! See you tomorrow!


	5. Chapter 5

_I’m going to ask you to play a game._

_Please let me know if your feelings wane._

_This rule keeps my heart puttering strong._

_Scared to ask what we’ve been all along._

 

Back in their home Erata dances around the house excitedly, collecting everything she needs to see this through to the end.  Coy watches amused from his seat on the couch as she grabs dictionaries in different languages, thesauruses, multi-colored pens, different pencils, erasers, and a slew of notebooks.

“A few are empty, two for reference, and one for random inspiration to be revisited later.”  She points to each type as each type as she sets them on the couch and scurries off for more things.  Coy sits on the couch watching her, her happiness fills the air and wams him through and through. Oh how he loves her.

“Have I told you how much I am utterly devoted to and deeply in love with you yet today?”  Coy calls out to her watching as her butt wiggles in the air, digging deep into a box of hers under the desk.  

“Only 5 or so times with your words, but a million times with those eyes.  You have the perfect smize just for me.” Erata crows proudly as she stands up and gives him the most sultry look.  He winks at her and she comes dashing across the space between them to straddle his lap. She presses her lips to his with a fervour he eagerly responds to.  His hands come up to grip her waist, feeling up and down her body before squeezing her even closer. She grips the back of his neck and runs her finger tips up through his short dark hair, scratching lightly.  They both pull away to breathe and rest their foreheads together.

“If you keep that up, I'm going to forget all about our new friends.”  Coy reminds her, completely in favor of this option with his wife, where he can satisfy her every fancy.  Erata pouts at him in a moment’s consideration before shaking her head.

 “If I could write beautiful prose based solely on the way our love explodes out of us to the point where it vibrates the very molecules of the air and shifts the clouds, shifting them to fit the whirlwind that is us… I would.  But I’m a bit biased. And you know how much I love watching that effect between others. The more angst the better. Plus, there’s always after…” His wife suggests with a wiggle of her hips which startles something warm and pleasant in him.

“Well, these ones could be dangerous.  They’re hunters after all. They’ll probably be able to figure out who we are and what can kill us.  I’ll have to give them advantages all the other humans never would have thought to ask for. You know how this works, I can’t be duplicitous with them.”  Erata hums in thought.

“I can’t tell if you’re using the threat of danger to turn me on more so you can drag me off to bed, or to actually warn me.”  Erata asks with playfully squinted eyes.

“A bit of both.”  Coy admits, shifting his face slightly closer to hers, hot breath mixing between them.  With a concerted effort Erata pulls away off Coy’s lap and onto the free space next to him.  

“Enough foreplay, my love.  I’m ready to begin.” She grabs up her favorite pen and a brand new leather bound notebook.  Opening to the first page, she looks over at him with a smirk. Coy moans and bites his lip, carefully getting up and stepping away from his wife while shaking a finger at her.

“You’re the best tease in the entire multiverse.  And for that you will pay so dearly later.” He tells her, tilting his chin down slightly as his eyes sparkle with mischief.   She returns the look with an equal amount of anticipation.

“I’m counting on that.” She winks at him and with that Coy finally tears his gaze from her.  With a snap of his fingers the large television lights up. The TV shows a close up of a chess board lit from within, and an overhead light that is not visible. The shot cuts to further away to show a large dark room, with nothing but the chess board.  Erata smiles eagerly.

Two openings appear on opposite walls within the shot, doors sliding to reveal the dark outline of two men in each rectangle who stumble into the room and turn around to see the doors slide closed behind them.

 _“What the hell is this?!”_ The man on the left side of the room says in confused anger.  

 _“Dean?”_ Calls the man from the right side of the room.  They both turn around and look at each other.

 _“Cas?!”_ Dean says, still obviously confused but the slight relief at seeing his best friend is obvious in the set of his shoulders.

“And that’s my cue.”  Coy says. Erata blinks and he’s gone.  The men on the TV continue their banter as she snuggles into the couch happily.

Dean has the horrible feeling he’s a goldfish in a tank or a monkey in the zoo at this particular moment.  He can feel eyes on him, he’s certain of it. Maybe it’s some weird hunter’s sense that gives him the idea that whoever is watching is enjoying themselves immensely.  Even staring at Cas only makes him feel slightly relieved that he’s not alone.

“How did we get here?”  Dean asks him, stepping closer to Castiel.  Cas shakes his head and shrugs.

“The last thing I remember is falling unconscious at the convention with the suspicion that whatever killed the cherub had caught us too.”

“I feel like you’re about to make some sort of spider analogy.”  Cas tilts his head side to side in consideration.

“That wouldn’t be far off.”  Cas admits. “However, I’m really not sure how this would play into it.”  Cas says pointing at the chess table and stepping towards it to examine it closely.

“Maybe that’s the bait?” Dean asks and shrugs.  “Why do bugs go into a spider’s nest anyway?”

“Typically they don’t.  Most of the time they just walk or fly right into it by accident.”  Dean hums at that and also leans in to look at the chess pieces. They’re very detailed, the king and queen look like actual old-timey kings and queens.  Ren Fest style. With real Bishops, Castles, and Knight topped horses. “Fancy.” Dean comments and moves to flick at one of the pieces.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”  A voice booms around them, making both Dean and Cas back up into defensive stances at being startled.

“We’re warning you bud, you’ve picked the wrong guys to mess with.”  Dean calls out, looking up at the ceiling wildly searching for the source of the voice.

“Oh please, don’t start with that pile of tired clichés.  I’d much rather get down to business.”  The voice says as he appears in front of them on the other side of the chess board, disinterestedly examining his nails.  Both Cas and Dean balk as the familiarity sets in.

“Aren’t you that guy from the-”  Dean starts but Cas cuts him off.

“Coy.  Where’s your wife, Erata was it?”  Cas narrows his eyes dangerously. Coy scoffs at them and rolls up his sleeves, revealing fully tattooed arms with intricate black line work and slate coloring to fill the gaps in varying shades.  It strikes Cas in such a familiar way, but he can’t quite figure out why.

“She’s very much present.  However you will be dealing directly with me for the rest of this game.  Watching gives her inspiration and I live to inspire her.” He clears his throat glancing around the room.  Dean puffs up in frustration.

“Wherever we are, let us out or I swear to god I’m-”  Dean threatens before he’s interrupted with a sharp look from Coy.

“You’re going to _what_ exactly?  Has your situation not been made clear enough to you?  I figured I wouldn’t have to explain this to the most famous hunters in the world, but here we go: This is _my_ sandbox boys.”  He looks between the two, still defensively standing a few feet away from the board and not budging. “Come now, you’re so busy wanting to get back you don’t even realize what you’re missing.”

“I don’t know what the hell you’re getting at buddy bu-”

“Dean, where are Sam and Charlie?”  Cas turns to him alarmed, grabbing his arm and cutting off the rant mid procession.  Dean looks utterly baffled for a moment, several moments making Cas worry. Coy coughs slightly and Dean is hit with a sudden realization.

“I forgot about them.  How the HELL did I forget about my own brother?!”  Dean rounds on Coy furiously. “What the fuck did you do to me?”

“What I wanted.  It’s. My. Sand. Box.”  Coy says as if he’s lecturing small children.  “Have I made myself clear enough now? I didn’t want you to remember him... and so you didn’t!  I wanted you to focus on the important things, but no! I guess you always have to give the ass a carrot to keep it moving, mustn't you?”  He clucks his tongue at them. “You need to figure out what’s _really_ important in your life, Dean.”  Dean balks at the gall of this monster and turns to Cas.

“I’m gonna kill him.  He’ll be double dead when this is done.  You hear that you freak? You’re just another thing that goes bump in the night that I’ll be roundhouse kicking you off this planet personally.” Coy chuckles at Dean’s petulance.

“Dean, you’re not flexible enough to perform a ‘roundhouse kick’.”  Dean looks at Cas in exasperation.

“And how exactly would you know about Dean Winchester’s stretching capabilities Castiel, former angel of the Lord?”  Coy asks, looking down at the chessboard he places his hand on it and taps his fingers in order. His hit lands just where he wanted it to, judging by the echoing silence in the room and when Coy glances up, Cas’ neck has gone all flush.

“What do you want from us?”  Cas asks, going perfectly stormy and threatening,

“Oooh hooo.  There he is! The being that was once bigger than a skyscraper.  He still peeks out from time to time. Exciting!”

“Answer the damn question freak!”  Dean yells and Coy holds up his hands in defense.

“I want you to play a game.  My game.” Dean rolls his eyes.

“You want us to play chess with you?  What do you not have any friends? Lonely childhood?”  Coy smirks at that.

“You should start showing me some more respect or you won’t ever be seeing your brother or your friend again… Is that understood?”  His tone is almost playful as each word drips threateningly off the tip of his tongue. Coy glances up to see Dean swallow nervously, clearly making the wise decision to back down.  Matching looks of grim determination settle onto both of the men’s faces. When neither of them say anything Coy smiles brightly and takes that as his signal to move on with the explanations.  He begins to pace causally side to side, each step accentuating a word or gesturing appropriately when necessary.

“Yes, you will both be playing chess together, as a team, facing off against me.  But this is no ordinary game of chess. There is no point in ordinary. Your goal is to win both by capturing as many pieces of mine as possible and by placing me in check mate.  Each piece will gain you an advantage for the next stage of the game. But, player beware, for each piece of _yours_ that _I_ capture, you will be at a disadvantage and immediately entered into a new reality you must play out.  While in these realities you must do one of three things to return to your game here with me. You must either _win_ , be _eliminated_ , or you must speak your _truth_ to one another.  If you win I’ll release you from my control with Sam and Charlie, both unharmed.  But if I win, the game starts over. Do I make myself clear?” Coy finishes by leaning into the chess table, placing his palms face down on the glowing surface.  

“Not very.  Are we playing game-ception here?  Running a double pass up the field?”  Dean asks.

“Essentially yes.  Either way, if you don’t understand I’m sure you’ll figure it out soon enough.”  Coy answers flippantly.

“Do we get to choose our advantages?”  Cas asks the man and is surprised to see a look of respect cross his face.  

“Yes, but only because you asked.”  Their opponent tells them. Dean looks over at Cas proudly and it makes Coy smile to know this is just what his wife wants.  “You may choose the advantages for all the major pieces upon their capture. Acknowledging that the king is already delegated for exit from the game.”

“Man, you switch from understandable references to textbook speak so quickly I’ve got whiplash.”  Dean comments under his breath, rubbing the back of his neck. Coy laughs good naturedly as Cas leans in to examine the pieces closer.  

“If we capture your Queen we want Charlie back.”  Cas announces and Dean nods.

“Yeah!  And if we capture the Queen’s left knight we want Sam.”  Cas agrees with this as well.

“Very well, what else?” Coy asks as they both think for a few moments.  Dean tugs at Cas and pulls him away from the chess board so they can turn their backs and talk without being stared at directly.

“We need to brainstorm on this.  What could we use to help us solve this or get out of here?”

“Well.  I suppose we could stick with the theme of other people to assist.  Phone calls to Garth and... Crowley would be useful in discovering the identity of this duo as well as their weaknesses.”  Cas adds in thoughtfully.

“I don’t want him to be able to keep fucking with our memories when he drops us into the next deeper level of game.”  Dean admits with a shudder.

“What are you suggesting then?”

“That when the other knight is captured we want all of our memories moving forward.  No matter what other rounds we have to play, even if we lose.” Dean seems very firm on this and Cas agrees it’s important, but he’s not sure their opponent will allow it

“What else could we use?”  Cas continues.

“Access to lore.  Really access to the whole damn bunker but I doubt he’ll allow that.”  Dean scrubs his face in frustration. “One more?” He asks.

“Yeah.”  Cas answers confused as he goes to pat his jacket.  He checks every pocket before letting the small amount of distress sink in.  “My blade is gone.” Dean looks at him wide eyed, giving the jacket a once over to be sure.

“You sure you didn’t just… drop it?” Dean asks, which earns him the ultimate Castiel bitch face.

“No, I made sure he didn’t have it.  Didn’t want you boys getting any ideas too early on.  I know what kind of man you are Dean Winchester.” Coy calls over, startling both men to turn around and face him again, Coy’s expression portrays utter boredom.  “You know, shoot first ask questions later? Anyway, are you done now? Terms ready? Can we finally start?” Cas glances to Dean and Dean nods at him to do the talking.  

“For our Bishops we would like one to represent a phone call to the hunter Garth Fitzgerald and the other to call the demon Crowley.”  Cas announces. Coy gives a short whistle.

“Friends in mighty low places, huh boys?”

“And for our Rooks we would like access to all the lore we might need to figure out what you two are… and I would like my angel blade back.”  

“Done and Done.  And for your final one?”  At this point Dean steps forward.

“We want our memories.  Completely with no tampering no matter where you decide to zap us.  Even if we lose the game. Capiche?”

“Capisco.   _Now_ may we begin?”  Coy asks impatiently.  Both Dean and Cas turn to look at each other communicating silently, eyebrows shifting to convey new points.  Dean reaches up to squeeze Cas’ arm, an obvious sign of trust for whatever comes next, at least they’re in it together.  Cas nods, smirking sourly, and turns back to their opponent.

“You may begin.”  Cas tells him and Coy flashes a brilliant smile as he reaches for his first white pawn, a small soldier man with a shield, on the far right side of the board.  He shifts him two spaces up.

“And so it has begun,”  Coy says dramatically. 


End file.
